<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>So Into You by posessedahlia</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860435">So Into You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/posessedahlia/pseuds/posessedahlia'>posessedahlia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Slipknot (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, No gender specified, Shawn Crahan - Freeform, Soft!!!!, gender neutral reader, reader - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:27:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/posessedahlia/pseuds/posessedahlia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn just thinks he's an undeserving old man. You show him otherwise. </p><p>Where Shawn is everything the universe thinks you should have. For once in your life, you think the universe is right.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Shawn Crahan/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>So Into You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey-ho we've officially made it: hell.<br/>Listen I really tried to convince myself that keeping, like... 12 wips in the drafts about Shawn would keep me sated but here we are... taking them out of the drafts LMAOAOAOAO<br/>Everybody say thank you to 4am me because if I wasn't up, none of this would've happened probably so. Y'know.<br/>ANYWAYYYSSS, clown-fuckers; come get y'all juice.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Honestly, it astounds you just how <em>fast </em>Shawn comes into your life. The way he starts leaving things on your counters, even though he doesn't mean to; pens, old receipts, his fuckin' <em>phone charger. </em>He stands next to you when you wash dishes, dries them off and puts them away while talking about anything and everything cuz he doesn't realize how much he likes to hear himself talk until he really gets to it. Gets into why the world is the way it is. Why the sun rotates at just the angle it does. The obligatory "Slipknot is a living breathing monster." rant. It's a lot and you take in every word because it's <em>Shawn </em>and he just lives and breathes everything and then chews and spits it out. (With about 10 extra points that weren't in there before.)</p><p>It took like, three and a half months for him to even come within 10 feet of your front door and once he did, it took a good couple weeks to get him inside. He'd stand with you on your front porch, though; you tucked into his arms and his chin on your head. He never spends longer than 20 minutes there, and he makes up some excuse about having to get up early tomorrow and he walks away to his car, not letting go of your fingers until he absolutely has to. By the time he has, you've got the smell of rainwater and two dollar cigarettes staining your shirt from all sides and you can feel his skin still ghosted on yours well after you're hidden behind your front door. And you think that maybe this is what it feels like to be truly, fully infatuated with someone--leaning against your front door just breathing. Not even to live but because every inhale is some gross shitty piece of Shawn that goes straight to your brain cuz that's the last place left that hasn't been completely permeated by him.</p><p>   He goes away for months at a time and he has to get himself used to texting you opposed to sending an email cuz he's an old man who sometimes feels like he invented AOL. But it becomes second nature cuz he starts to realize it's easier to send you pictures and videos through SMS, especially when they're already taken on his phone in the first place. And he <em>does</em>, y'know. Weeks in he's sending you a video that starts with him propping his phone up and then taking kitchen scissors to his hair. (Because, <em>"You need a haircut, y'know." "Yeah, well, I'm not paying 30 bucks for some chick to bring some tiny scissors to my head." "I'll do it for you." "Mm?" </em>) There's some stupid smile on your face from the second it starts cuz he's in a white t-shirt that has a coffee stain on his left shoulder that's been there for God knows how long. And there's a thought gnawing at the back of your head that's not fully coherent, just something that loosely translates to <em>wish he'd take his shirt off. </em></p><p>You shoot him a text about how you could've done it <em>weeks ago </em>if he wouldn't've been so stubborn about it and he dances around your message, telling you he knows and then one right after that that says <em>I miss your voice. </em>And then your phone's ringing with his stupid contact name and his stupid face staring at you cuz of the display picture you chose for him. Of course you answer and you listen to him talk for however fuckin' long. Let him talk about live shows and interviews and about how Corey fucked up the toilet on the bus two days in. And you beg him for his face; you want to see him. You ask every other sentence and he eventually gives in, hanging up and calling back on Facetime cuz he doesn't know any other way to do it. Being face to face with him lets you recognize how he moves and just exists when you're not there. Like the way he's always propping his phone against something cuz he doesn't like to hold it for too long. You interrupt him once or twice. Telling him he looks good. And he shrugs you off because <em>he's Shawn, for fucksake. </em>He's multitasking while he talks; remaking his hotel room bed and pulling dead leaves off the plant in the corner of the room. </p><p>
  <em>"This fuckin'... carpal tunnel, and tinnitus bullshit is killing me-"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Babe, not to be a dick, but maybe stop hitting metal on metal. Pipe to keg, y'know?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I mean--yeah, I guess, but I can't get the fuckin' sound out any other way."</em>
</p><p>Then he's telling you about how they ended up even using kegs in the first place and jumped into his whole "This is why what we do is <em>what we do.</em>" thing. And it's late but he's talking and moving his hands everywhere all at once just for emphasis and without even realizing, and you seem to forget you're on Facetime and not in the same room cuz at some point you're asking him what he's wearing to bed just so you can find something that matches. Which is really stupid and corny of you because you're a fuckin' <em>adult </em>and you're about to wear matching pajamas with your boyfriend who's thousands of miles away from you. (So maybe you're fucked out on love for some percussionist in a metal band; pupils blown 25/8 cuz they expand 55% when looking at something you love or whatever, and that thing is Shawn.) But he moves his phone to the TV stand for height so he can back up and show you his clothes; pulling down on the hem of his coffee shirt to show it off and he's smiling while he turns and gives you angles because he's <em>a serious musician </em>but he's really just some dork who's sometimes just a little too dedicated to his craft. </p><p>When it comes to Shawn you're fuckin' brainless and lost cuz you don't realize that it's late at all until he's telling you to "Get your ass to bed." And you try to play the whole <em>"You hang up first" </em>thing with him but he doesn't bite, just tells you you'll talk in the morning. And you make sure to remind <em>him </em>to sleep, too, cuz just because you're going to bed doesn't mean he is. You know he has a horrible habit of staying up until 3am. Not in the same way Sid does or the same way Corey does cuz he's just doing bullshit like writing new songs in the dark and falling asleep to Dateline at the table.</p><p>   Whenever the break in the first leg of the tour comes around--that place between the US and Europe, he's texting you from the airport like "I'm coming for you." Which, like, you didn't know if he was intentionally being creepy and ominous (he was) but you don't really care cuz you get that dumbass clown back on your couch; back in your bed and all over your stuff because he doesn't realize how much he bleeds over everything you own and you don't tell him. </p><p>You don't meet him at the airport or pick him up or anything; you wanted to but you also were hyper-aware of the way you looked and the way you smelled so that translates to: <em>take a 45 minute shower to get a free trial of drowning </em>because Shawn's gonna come through that door and you're waiting for the inevitable awkward "seeing eachother for the first time in months" thing cuz you're weird and Shawn's weird so it feels bound to happen. </p><p>   Spoiler alert; it doesn't because he knocks on your front door (which you've told him to stop doing. What's yours is his--which includes the house) and you fall into this old well-known rhythm that feels like a second heartbeat. Your arms around his shoulders, scratching at the hair at the nape of his neck because it's just habit and he's holding his forehead to your shoulder so you can smell his hair and his sweat. And when you pull back from him, you're both still stuck together cuz he doesn't wanna let go of your waist and you don't wanna lose contact with his shoulders cuz it feels like he might just dissipate if you do. </p><p>Eventually you're kinda wishing you didn't take a shower earlier cuz he leaves his stuff at the door when you tell him he smells and beelines for the bathroom. (Slowly, of course, because "I'm old, my bones hurt, and I've been playing shows eight days a week for months. Give me a break.") And you're hot on his heels and he doesn't mind; doesn't say anything when you're shirtless and then pant-less and then in the shower behind him. You wash his hair for him and him yours; and that's all you're doing (maybe kissing a couple times but that's not important) cuz you just miss touching him and feeling him close. </p><p>And you don't let him comb his hair afterwards, which he's complaining about. </p><p>"<em>Babe--</em>just let me-"</p><p>"No!" you're laughing, "I like your hair how it is. Au natural, if you will."</p><p>"I won't."</p><p>He says that, but no matter how stern he's being (attempting to be, at least) he leaves the comb behind on the bathroom counter and kisses your head cuz y'know. He's Shawn. He's Shawn in all his glory, and he's impossible but you're probably the most content you've been in years (Okay, maybe months but-) because you're getting in bed at a decent time and <em>together, </em>for that matter. (Cue Shawn's typical night in the living room writing new shit or watching the Adult Swim channel until ungodly hours of the morning.) And he's watching Dateline to fall asleep, like he does. Before you've got one leg under the covers he's holding his arms out and you're folding yourself against his frontside and he holds you there. </p><p>You wake up a couple hours later cuz, y'know, <em>sleeping problems, </em>and you reach over him to get the remote from the other side of his body to shut the TV off. And he's groaning at you cuz "You're moving too much, babe." so you fall back into him, this time in the dark, telling him "Sorry, princess." and you can see the outline of his middle finger pointed towards you in the darkness. </p><p>It's whatever. </p><p>It's Shawn. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>